The Famous Fellowship: Nine Go Off To Camp
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: What would have happened if LOTR had been written by Enid Blyton?
1. Summer Hols At Last!

The Famous Fellowship: Nine Go Off to Camp  
  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and associated characters belong to Tolkien. Or whoever owns his estate these days. Enid Blyton wrote the delightful Famous Five books (and some other stuff that's even more sexist). This is, obviously, a tribute to these two late, great authors, and not me laughing at them.  
  
Author's Notes: REVISED! Don't just skip past these chapters if you've read them before! I have, at painstaking length, re-read, re-written and generally re-jigged the first two chapters. I am deeply ashamed that I haven't updated this in about however long it's been. Especially since you've all been so lovely in your reviews. But now I promise (Scout's honour) that I will do my very best to get this completed. As well as writing at least two other fics and various other bits of work.  
  
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Chapter 1. Summer Hols At Last!  
  
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It was the first day of the summer holidays in Hobbiton. All the little folk of the Shire were extremely excited at the thought of no more school for six whole weeks. None, however, were excited as young Frodo Baggins and his chums, Merry and Pippin. They ran through the streets, laughing heartily at the sheer joy of freedom. They were surely the happiest hobbits in all of Hobbiton!  
  
"I say, buck up, you two," Frodo called as he raced ahead of the others, "we'll never get to old Uncle Bilbo's place in time to pack at this rate."  
  
"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Pippin yelled, running faster.  
  
They all laughed and put on speed. Soon, they were entering Bag End, former home of Frodo's uncle, the venerable Bilbo Baggins. The old hobbit had been quite a wag in his younger days, going off on ripping adventures, many of which he had told his nephew long yarns about. The young Frodo had listened, wide-eyed, determined to go on such adventures himself someday. Now was his chance!  
  
"It's awfully decent of your uncle to lets us come to Riven Dale Farm with you to see him, Frodo," Pippin said as they sorted through the things that they would be taking.  
  
"He's a brick," Merry declared, pulling out a tent pole.  
  
The others all agreed, and set to work with a will, sorting out all the necessary equipment for their adventure. They soon amassed a pile of items, including saucepans, torches, bottles of ginger beer, tents, sleeping bags and several vegetables. While searching among the fascinating items, Pippin found an old box.  
  
"Gosh, Frodo, what's this?" he asked, holding it up.  
  
"I think it's an old box," Frodo replied. "D'y'know, I seem to remember old Uncle Bilbo showing me a rather topping secret drawer in it. Just press that knob there."  
  
"The knob on the figure carved into the side?" Pippin asked, fingering it.  
  
"That's the one, old chap. Old Uncle Bilbo never found anything in it though."  
  
"Well," Pippin said, pushing his fingers in, "your old uncle may not have, but I certainly have found something! I say, look at that!"  
  
Pippin held up a gold ring. The others all gathered round, eager to see his exciting find.  
  
"Your hand must be smaller than old Uncle Bilbo's, Pip," Merry said with a grin, patting his twin on the shoulder.  
  
"I say, it's got writing on the inside!" Frodo had taken the ring to examine it, as it was his old uncle's box it had come out of after all.  
  
"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them. One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them," Frodo read, translating freely as he went.  
  
"Gosh, Frodo," Pippin said, "it's jolly lucky you took that course in Black Speech last term!"  
  
"Rather!" Frodo agreed.  
  
"But what on earth can it mean?" Merry asked. They all pondered for a moment.  
  
"I know!" Pippin shouted suddenly, making the others jump. "It's a riddle! How absolutely spiffing!"  
  
"I say, we could have some fun trying to solve that, couldn't we?" Merry grinned.  
  
"What larks!" Pippin's grin was identical to his twin's.  
  
With each mind filled with thoughts of rings and riddles and the harmless fun they could have working it all out, they set to packing enthusiastically. They were soon ready to depart on their shiny new bicycles, and depart they did.  
  
"Farewell, Hobbiton!" Merry cried as they pedalled away. "We're off on an adventure!"  
  
"I've always thought that this sort of adventure needed a dog," Pippin mused.  
  
"We've got one," Frodo said. "Come on, boy!"  
  
They all turned to look at Sam, who was lolloping devotedly behind his master's bicycle.  
  
"You know, Frodo, sometimes I think he understands every word you say."  
  
"Of course he does. Don't you, boy?"  
  
"Woof!"  
  
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They continued cycling along the Hobbiton road. The hobbits chatted, told jokes, sang songs and generally had a gay time.  
  
"On a wonderful day like today," Merry warbled, waving his hand.  
  
"I defy any cloud to appear in the sky," Pippin picked up the song, shaking a fist at the sky to emphasise the words.  
  
"I say," Frodo said, interrupting their fifth rendition of that particular song, "I've just had the most wizard wheeze! Let's try cycling through the woods!"  
  
Oh, topping!" Pippin cried, ringing his bicycle bell.  
  
"Rather!" Merry rang his bell too.  
  
They all turned their bicycles off the road to go through the trees. They were, of course, careful to avoid the giant spiders that everyone was warned against. Many a tale had spread around Hobbiton about foolish young hobbits who had been quite shaken up after encountering the creatures.  
  
While they were in the woods, some strange men went roaring along the road on big black motorbikes. They were all dressed in leather, including their faces, which were covered in studded gimp masks.  
  
"Gosh, Frodo," Pippin said solemnly, staring after them with wide eyes, "I'm jolly glad you suggested going through the woods."  
  
His twin agreed. "Those awful men would have knocked us down, I'm sure. They didn't even stop to see if that squirrel they hit was alright, the beasts!"  
  
"Let's put on speed," Frodo suggested, "I wouldn't like to meet them on a dark night, or any time at all."  
  
They all agreed heartily and pedalled faster. Soon they had reached the Prancing Pony Farm on the outskirts of Bree. Frodo, being the eldest and most responsible, went to knock on the door. It was opened by a kindly old man with twinkling eyes.  
  
"Arr, young Marster Frodo, es et?" he asked, in a rough farmer's voice with matching indistinguishable accent, "ol' Mezter Dalf zed you'd be coomin' boi, ooh arr."  
  
"Yes," Frodo responded keenly, liking the jolly old farmer immediately, "where can we camp?"  
  
"Arr, it be just t'rough 'ere," Mr Butterbur the old farmer said, showing them through to a field. "Zleep well, naow."  
  
As it was a very warm night, they decided to sleep out in the open, and leave their tents packed in their bags. They buily a campfire and soon had a jolly blaze going. They sang many songs, with Sam joining in barking. Several bottles of ginger beer were also drunk, washing down the meal that Merry and Pippin had cooked. Feeling very full and content, they all crawled inside their sleeping bags, except Sam, who curled up at his master's feet.  
  
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They were awoken abruptly a few hours later by Mr Butterbur, who shook them urgently and gabbled in his charming rustic dialect.  
  
"Oi've juzt 'ad a corrll frem Mezter Zmith fram oop t'road. 'E zayz that t'ere'z noine moterzoiclests affter youze."  
  
"Gosh! They must be the ones we saw earlier!" Frodo realised. "We'd better get out of here!"  
  
"Ooh, arr, maybee." Mr Butterbur thought for a moment, forehead creased with the effort. "Oi know. You boyz pack oop queck loike, an' wie'll put borlsters doon on t'grass, an' mayhap t'ey'll thenk them's youz."  
  
"Splendid idea, sir!" Merry exclaimed.  
  
"Absolutely top notch!" Pippin echoed.  
  
They set to work, and soon no one could tell in the darkness that the shapes on the ground weren't Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Sam.  
  
"I say, thank awfully, Mr Butterbur," Frodo said as they wheeled their bicycles out onto the road. "It's awfully decent of you to go to so much trouble for us."  
  
"Aye, s'alreet. Youz juzt be careful naow, y'ear?" Mr Butterbur said in his indecipherable accent as he waved them off, smiling.  
  
The hobbits waved back, wondering what he had just said. They smiled too. They were having an adventure!  
  
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Continued in Chapter 2! (Which will be up in the revised edition as soon as I've typed it).  
  
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And now, the Mr Butterbur translations. As not everybody round here comes from a farming area, I decided it would be a good idea to let you know what Mr Butterbur was gabbling in that charming rustic accent of his. So, in correct BBC English:  
  
"Arr (a general rustic phrase), young Master Frodo is it? Old Mr Dalf said you would be coming by, ooh arr (another charming rustic phrase)."  
  
"Arr (as above),it be (correct grammar: it is) just through here. Sleep well now."  
  
"I've just had a call from Mr Smith from up the road. He says that there are nine motorcyclists after you."  
  
"Ooh arr, maybe. I know. You boys pack up quick like, and we will put bolsters down on the grass, and maybe they will think that they are you."  
  
"Aye ( yet another charming phrase, meaning 'yes'), it is alright. You just be careful now, you hear?"  
  
(Rabbit of Iron; translating the cow pat sniffers for the masses) 


	2. Riven Dale Farm

The Famous Fellowship: Nine Go Off To Camp  
  
Disclaimer: The characters within belong to the wonderful Mr. Tolkein, even the delectable Legolas, sigh. The style is mostly from dear old Enid Blyton, may her work live forever. Top hole, chaps! Ices for all!  
  
Chapter 2: Riven Dale Farm  
  
They cycled further along the road, seeing their way clearly in the bright moonlight. A little way along the road they met another person, who was crouched down over his bike.  
  
"Good morning!" they greeted him, for it was indeed morning, as it was past midnight. As he looked up, they saw that he was a few years older than them, with some straggly stubble on his chin.  
  
"Got a problem?" Pippin asked.  
  
"Had a puncture, worst luck," the boy answered glumly, "I was just on my way to Riven Dale Farm when my tire blew. Blasted nuisance really."  
  
"Oh, can we help?" offered Frodo, for he was a most kind-hearted boy.  
  
"It's all fixed now, thanks," the boy said, standing, "but I'll ride along with you if you don't mind. There's some strange folks around tonight."  
  
"Yes, we saw them earlier," said Merry, his eyes wide, "all dressed in black leather and stuff. They were scary."  
  
"Well, I'll protect you," the boy promised, "I'm a Scout you know."  
  
Indeed, the young hobbits could see he was, as he was dressed in a brown pair of shorts, with his socks pulled up to his knees. His shirt was green and its sleeves were covered with badges. Pippin and Merry stared at them in fascination.  
  
"What's that one for?" they asked, pointing at one that depicted a figure with its head cut off.  
  
"Orc-beheading," the boy replied, "my first badge. Oh, and by the way, my name's 'Arry."  
  
They all introduced themselves, and were soon pedalling merrily along the road.  
  
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Arriving the next evening at Weathertop Hill, they found a mark on the ground in the shape of a large cross.  
  
"Gosh, that must be one of old Mr. Dalf's signs," Merry said, "I wonder what it means."  
  
"I know," 'Arry exclaimed, "I did a badge on sign-recognition. It means 'good place to camp."  
  
"Are you sure?" Frodo asked. "I thought that meant 'Stay away, under absolutely no circumstances camp here'."  
  
"Don't be daft," 'Arry said, "it would mean that if it was forty-five degrees further round."  
  
"Oh, that's all right then," Frodo agreed, and no more was said as they settled down to sleep. As it was a fine night, they decided to sleep in the open, under the stars.  
  
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A noise awoke Sam later that night. He moved from his place on Frodo's feet and padded towards the edge of the campsite. Looking down, he saw nine dark shapes on the road below. All his doggy instincts were telling him that something was very wrong. Running back, he licked his master's face to wake him. Frodo stirred.  
  
"What is it, boy?" he asked sleepily, "something wrong?"  
  
Sam seized Frodo's sleeve in his teeth and pulled him over to see. Realising the danger they were in, Frodo immediately woke the others.  
  
"We've got to get out of here," he whispered as they gathered around, "it's those motorcyclist fellows again."  
  
"I say," said Merry, "it's dashed bad form of them to interrupt us while we're sleeping."  
  
Silently, they all picked up their knapsacks and wheeled their bikes off the campsite.  
  
"We'll have to make all speed to Riven Dale now, chaps," 'Arry said, "those men won't be happy that we've gone."  
  
So they pedalled faster towards Riven Dale, travelling throught the woods to avoid being seen. They cycled through the rest of the night, arriving at Riven Dale Farm just before lunch. The farmer, Old El (short for Elvis) Rond, was at the door to greet them.  
  
"'Ello boys. Good to see you 'ere." He smiled in a friendly way, gesturing them in. "I 'ear you 'ad a bit of trouble on th'way, like."  
  
"Gosh, news does travel fast," Frodo said. "Yes, we saw a rather nasty- looking bunch on motorbikes."  
  
"It was scary," Merry piped up, "I'm glad we had 'Arry with us."  
  
"Arr, I wondered if you'd 'ave met up with my adopted son, Aragorn. Anyways, come in and 'ave a bit o' lunch, like."  
  
They all followed him through to the dining room, after leaving their knapsacks neatly in the hall. Already seated round the table were five other people, including Frodo's old uncle Bilbo.  
  
"Old Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed. "It's topping to see you again!"  
  
"Hallo Frodo!" his uncle replied. "Allow me to introduce you to everyone. This is Mr. Dalf, who you already know of course, next to him is Gimli, he's a circus midget, then Boromir, better known as Barry, and Legolas, who prefers to be called Lassie."  
  
Frodo sat down next to Legolas, who smiled at him prettily. The young hobbit stared at the beauty, taking in the long blond hair and delicate features.  
  
"Excuse me," he said uneasily, "aren't you a boy?"  
  
Legolas pouted. "I'm as good as a girl anyday!" he declared, tossing his hair.  
  
At the other end of the table, Mr. Dalf smiled indulgently. He was the hobbits' school teacher during term time, and he was an affable old man, one of their favourite teachers.  
  
Soon there was a large amount of food on the table before them, including cold beef, pork pies and home-made fruitcake.  
  
"I say, what a spread!" Pippin said, tucking in vigorously. The others all followed suit, and soon all were silent, save for the sounds of eating. After much of the food had been demolished, they sat back in their chairs.  
  
"I say, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said suddenly, "I quite forgot. You know that old box of yours, with the rather thrilling secret compartment? Well, we were poking around in it, and we found this old ring." He pulled it out. "It's got a riddle or something inside it. Listen,  
  
"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them.  
  
"One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."  
  
There was silence, until Gimli spoke.  
  
"Gosh, I wonder what it means," he said, from his perch atop a pile of cushions.  
  
"I'm sure we could work it out," said 'Arry, as he handed his empty plate to Mrs. Rond, who had started to clear the table. Legolas jumped up.  
  
"Oh, let me help," he said, "I like washing-up! We'll leave the boys to their riddles. I'm sure I couldn't work it out."  
  
Lassie and Mrs. Rond left the room, carrying the plates. Mr. Dalf thought for a moment.  
  
"I think it's part of an old poem," he said, "let me see if I can remember it now."  
  
They all smiled and waited while the kindly old teacher muttered absently under his breath.  
  
"Ah, got it!" he exclaimed. "It goes like this:  
  
"Three points to the left, high in the sky,  
  
"Seven to the right, on the wall of stone.  
  
"Nine to the up, above the field of rye,  
  
"One further down, 'neath he twirling cone,  
  
"In the village of Door on th'Moor, whence the noon-day shadows lie.  
  
"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them.  
  
"One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.  
  
"In the village of Door on th'Moor, whence the noon-day shadows lie."  
  
There was a further silence following his words.  
  
"Well, what can that mean?" Merry asked. "I'm stumped."  
  
"Door on th'Moor is a little village, arr," Mr. Rond said slowly, "'bout ten mile from 'ere."  
  
"Gosh, we could go there and look around!" Pippin suggested, eyes shining with excitement. "We could camp there!"  
  
"Yes, lets!" his twin agreed. Everyone else round the table looked just as enthusiastic.  
  
"You'd have to be careful, though," old Uncle Bilbo said, "I couldn't let you boys go off on your own."  
  
"I could go with them," Mr. Dalf said, "I'm sure they couldn't get up to much mischief with me there."  
  
"Rather!" said Frodo, and Sam wagged his tail in agreement. "It would be top hole! Oh, Uncle Bilbo, do say yes!"  
  
"Oh, I suppose so, young Frodo," his uncle said jovially, "but not on your own, of course."  
  
"I'll go," 'Arry offered, "I love adventures!"  
  
"And me," Barry cut in, "I haven't been on an adventure in ages."  
  
"I will too!" Gimli said, bouncing up and down in his excitement. 'Arry caught him just before he toppled from his cushions.  
  
"Don't leave me out," Lassie called from the doorway, where he stood holding a dishcloth, "I could cook for you all. I love cooking!"  
  
"Well, that's settled then," Mr. Dalf said cheerily, "we'll leave tomorrow morning."  
  
"Just think, Sam," Frodo said, turning to his dog, "we're going on an adventure!"  
  
Sam had a big doggy grin on his face, very pleased at the idea.  
  
To be continued.  
  
Hope you like Legolas' nickname! I would just like to say that I'm not a poet, to explain the complete lack of aptitude in writing the riddle. And I did like the idea of Aragorn in a Ranger Guide uniform, but decided that having him as a Boy Scout would be better. 


End file.
